


Day Will Come Again

by Narya (Narya_Flame), Narya_Flame



Series: Nárë a Lindalë [30]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hithlum, Short One Shot, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22320805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/pseuds/Narya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/pseuds/Narya_Flame
Summary: Fingon takes a moment to remember his cousin at midwinter.
Series: Nárë a Lindalë [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133360
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	Day Will Come Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SWG's New Year's Resolution challenge. This is the fic I meant to write for the Season's Greetings challenge last year, but somehow I never quite got round to it.

Rumpled grey clouds gathered over Barad Eithel. The dying sun tinged their folds flesh-pink. Stony air hung stale in the plains, and the Sirion whispered over frozen rocks. 

Fingon cradled a goblet of fortified wine. A good vintage – rich; silky; almost sweet. A favourite of Celegorm's. Carefully he reached for his cousin's mind, and was rebuffed with a swipe and a snarl like a wounded bear.

 _Leave us, cousin._ Curufin, his voice as sharp as winter's teeth in Fingon's mind. _We have no need of your pity._

 _As you wish._ But Fingon ached for them both, for everything they had been, for all that they had shared – and for their golden kinsman who had died in the dark.

The fire pulled low as though taking a breath. The day was over; the clouds' soft underbellies glowed with the red of blood and old wine. Fingon stared into the gloom of the longest night, remembering waves of yellow hair, eyes wise and still beyond their years, a smile that put Laurelin to shame. Grief tightened like a whip around his chest. _We will meet again, dear one._ He rose, and arranged his face into the kingly mask he could not quite grow used to. _I believe that even now._


End file.
